Silenced Wounds
by LoveIsNotForSinners
Summary: There's only one secret Stiles has kept and will keep from Scott and that's the reason his parents got divorced and it's all Stiles fault. Warning: mentions past sexual abuse/rape.
1. Thoughts Unspoken, Thoughts Unsaid

Summary: There's only one secret Stiles has kept and will keep from Scott and that's the reason his parents got divorced and it's all Stiles fault.

Pairing: Papa McCall/Stiles

Warning: Mentions of Past Sexual Abuse/Rape of a child.

Your mom and dad got a divorce because he hit her. Your mom and dad got a divorce because of me. But while I've never told you I'm glad he's gone. He didn't just hurt your mom Scott, he hurt me too. I remember spending nights at your house, in the guest bedroom, because it was weird for us to share at the age of 9. I remember the pain of his hands and the soft kisses. I remember him telling me it was a secret and I couldn't tell anyone. I remember the words and the slurs and I remember when my mom died, while I was sitting in the waiting room, waiting for my dad and crying I begged my mom to help me, to take him away. She did. It took two long years but he left and I had never been so relieved. But I can't tell you that, he's not here to hurt me anymore so I can't tell you that.

When I see him at the hospital there's this small part of me that hates everyone for leaving me to face him alone. I hate that he judges my father, I hate that he tries to find a reason to take me away like he did last time. Where I spent two weeks in your house while you and your mom were at her sisters. I'm still glad Mama McCall never found out. I know she'd have hated herself for vouching for her husband and there's no point in telling anyone now. He can't hurt me now. He's in the FBI, he's a big player now and he can't hurt me because if he hurts me he'll get in trouble. I'd fight back and I'd actually stand a chance. Well, maybe not, not after knowing Gerard, a dying old man, could kick my ass. But I still wouldn't tell you, no, I couldn't tell you if he hurts me again.

"Did you know your dad's car is in the school parking lot and has been since last night?"

"No. What does that mean?"

"It means he's officially missing." I know he's missing and part of me wonders if your father already knew that. Part of me wonders if my dad is dead and I'll be stuck in this man's grasp because no one else would want me. I wouldn't want me.

"Stiles, why am I getting the feeling that you know something that could help us find your dad?"

"If I did why would I not tell you?"

"If it meant helping your dad, why wouldn't you?"

"So, you're asking me to tell you what I wouldn't not tell you?"

"First, I have no idea what you just said. Second, how about you just help me help you?" The conversation isn't much of a conversation as it is an interrogation and he's got those eyes on me, making my skin crawl, it takes energy to try and focus.

"Well, I don't know how to help you help me tell you something that would help you if I don't know it." There's a small part of me that wants to tell him because maybe he'd have better luck finding my dad. If he found my dad I'd be okay because there is no way your father would hurt me again if my dad was here. Without my dad now, I feel unsafe, unprotected.

"Are you doing this on purpose?" There's a look on his face and my heart pounds, it makes me want to run and crawl and hide, it makes me want to give up, it kind of makes me want to cry.

"I don't know anything, okay? Can I just go?" I want to get away, I don't want to be here but I'll pretend, I can't give him the upper hand, not again.

"Where are your other friends?" Taking a low blow I ask about you.

"You mean Scott?" There's anger in the words, a type of venom because he doesn't get to ask about you. He doesn't deserve it not after all he's done. I remember asking you when we were young if your dad ever touched you and you had giggled and said all the time. My heart had pounded but then you just described how my dad touched me and I asked if he ever touched your privates. You gasped and told me he would never. I couldn't tell you he did mine. Just like I wouldn't tell you now – couldn't tell you now.

"I mean Scott. I mean Isaac Lahey, Allison Argent, these twins Ethan and Aiden. I've been told your whole little clique didn't show up at school today."

"I don't have a clique." I bit out, because Allison and Issac were more your clique, Ethan and Aiden were certainly not anyone's friends. I had no one, I barely had you.

"Stiles, come on. There's been pretty disturbing amount of violent activity in the last few months, several murders tied to this school. I don't know what's going on here, but it's serious. And- hey. Your dad is missing. Fine. But I don't want you going home alone. Do you have someone you can stay with tonight?" I stare at him and my heart thuds in my chest. He was going to take me again and this time my father wouldn't be able to come out of no where and save me. Last time he stopped drinking and saved me, he couldn't get away from the Darach, he was probably already dead. There's a sinking feeling in my stomach as I wonder if maybe I'm next, if maybe someone would stop him. But then I remember I have no one and you can't ever know.

When your boss comes in and says I'm staying with him there's relief on my face, in my body. I want to laugh at your father, tell him he can go fuck himself but I don't. I just shuffle after Deaton. And I can tell by the look on his face that he knows what's happened between your father and I. It makes me want to cry, makes me feel like he hates me, like he's judging me. I wonder if he'd tell me to not even think about telling you because that might affect you poorly, but I'd never tell you. Maybe he knows that as well. He doesn't bring it up tells me to call Lydia and you. So I do, you're father is now the least of my concerns. My father and your mother and Allison's father first, than I can worry about your FBI agent father. Until I'm being told I'm going to die, I might not come back. I know I have to tell you before, in case I don't come back, I'd feel wrong if I didn't.

"You're father's back." I tell you and maybe it isn't exactly what I wanted to say but it's close enough. If I die and you never understand, I'm okay with that. The pain and shock is evident on your face before we get pushed under. The memory of talking to Mrs. Morrell is suddenly fresh in my brain, about drowning. How you don't open your mouth until that very last second and I wonder if she knew this was how it was going to play out all along. I wonder if I'm going to die like this, if I would be able to handle the agonizing pain that's been my life because I wouldn't be able to handle the hell that's going to come when we return but I'd fight for it. I wonder if I might die with a million secrets on my chest, secrets that no child should keep, no single human should have on their chest so as I go under I swear to myself and I feel my vision darken, I promise to confront every secret I've ever had and let it out.

The first few are easy, simple things. Like being bisexual, unsure if I really want to be a werewolf. Then they get harder. I tell my father about how I cut for a year and he cries, I tell him how I killed mom and he looks at me horrified. He makes me feel better. Then I break down and the only words I can say is I'm not a virgin. He pauses for a moment, stops on the stairs and turns back to me, his face is etched in something I can't understand.

"Why are you telling me that?"

"I don't wanna die without you knowing." I can't breath and the next thing I know I'm panicking, I'm sinking to the floor and my dads there trying to ease me out of my attack. When I'm calm he doesn't ask he just looks at me, just looks at me and blinks. "When I got taken away from you while you were drinking…Mr. McCall." I choke on the word, it actually taste bad in my mouth, I never understood how people could say words taste bad but your father's name…on my tongue…tastes like death.

"Scott's dad?" I nod. "Was that the only time?" I shook my head. "Oh, Stiles."

"It started when I was nine." And I tell him everything, the words are flowing out of me in a way I never thought possible and I'm apologizing. I know half the words are stuttered and sobbed, I can feel my fathers arms around me, trying to comfort me and I cry out the secret I've kept for so long. I miss the next day of school, my dad sitting with me and asking why I thought I couldn't tell him and I shrug. There was a million reasons why I couldn't tell anyone, but I can't give him any of those. I have a real therapist now, outside of Morrell, my dad wants to see how it goes. I don't want to relive this anymore than I have to. I know it'll last a week if that because I don't plan on talking about that. Before almost losing my dad I was able to push this problem aside now that it's off my chest I'll just push it away again. But I'm starting to think you deserve to know.

There's a rumor around town that our fathers were caught yelling at each other and fighting. Your mother asked you and you asked me, I met your eyes ready to tell you everything but you're eyes are wide and innocent and concerned. Suddenly I knew I couldn't tell you, not yet. I wanted you to have a good image of your father, or the best you could have with the given circumstances. I didn't want you to look at me differently, didn't want you to think I was lying. I'm afraid if you ever find out what happened for those years, if you ever get told why our parents were fighting that you'd leave me. It was my fault, your father made sure to remind me every night that his crumbling marriage was my fault. I know you'd leave me for this reason because you're already trying. You're already half-way gone and I've known that for a while but now, with the darkness around us…I know it even more. Either you're leaving me on purpose or I'm leaving you on accident. Guess we'll know the answer to that when we cross that path but until then I think I'm okay dying with this as the only secret between us…the only secret I'm aware of between us.

AN: This was originally intended to only be seen by a friend but with her permission(partial request) I've decided to post it on here.

The reason the pairing is between Stiles/Papa McCall is because when McCall had been introduced I knew Stiles had a past with him, I knew it wasn't a happy past but I also don't actually believe it's a dark past, it just worked.


	2. Values and Violence, Breaking Silence

Summary: Due to popular demand Scott finds out. Stiles POV. Scott finds out Stiles little secret and all Stiles needs is a little 'undeserved comfort' from his friend

Disclaimer: Chapter Titles quoted from 'Breaking Silence' by Janis Ian

Warning: Mentions Past Sexual Abuse/Rape, I make Papa McCall a disgusting human being.

Every time I'm in a room with him it starts to hurt. There's a pain building in my chest when he looks to me. I don't think it's fair. I can't believe he thinks he has the right to look at me when he does this. I can't believe he thinks he has the right to be in the same room as me after all he's done. I can't believe I think what he's done actually matters. Sometimes you look at me confused but you never ask, you let it go. You always seem curious as to why I don't sleepover or sneak in through your window but you don't ask. And as long as you don't ask it's another day I can keep the secret. You're mother seems just as curious. She seems like it's always on the tip of her tongue when we see each other, when I come over for dinner. I don't know why she allows him to be there, why she allows him to try and come back into your life when he has no right.

I know he wants to confront me, trust me, I know it by the way he looks at me. He wants to yell at me, tell me my father hates me because I'm dirty. Well, okay, I don't know what he'd say to me but I know he wants to confront me about it. Wants to figure out why I'd tell my father now and not earlier. I'd never tell him, I don't want him to understand me, I don't ever want him to even think he's got the upper hand any more. But when we're in a room together, just a look at me gives him the upper hand. My heart pounds in my chest and I feel like he's coming after me again. I've always feared he was.

I still remember everything, including the night your mother had decided it was about time they got a divorce. They had started fighting, they fought a lot since your father had found out he could get his needs fulfilled from someone younger, from me. You and your mother had just returned from your two week trip to you aunts the week prior when we heard the screaming. You're mother and father were screaming at each other. I was always worried when they fought, worried it was about me. That one night your mother would storm to me and scream at me, call me all these nasty, vile terms I've come to believe.

But you, God, you were a mess when you fought. You trembled and cried, you hated it. I think deep down you knew they were falling apart and I think maybe, you might've blamed yourself the same way I blame myself everyday. So I held you. We sat on your bed and I held you and let you cry. I told you it was all going to be okay, that we'd be okay. I told you it wouldn't always be like this. Then it happened you're mom went silent at the sound of flesh hitting flesh and then screamed louder. The threat was in the air. So I shoved you to the bed, told you to stay there and ran out of the room. We were 14, last year in middle school, so I knew a little better.

We never talked about what happened out there, never told you the words that were slurred between the three of us. I whipped out my cell as fast as I could, met your fathers eyes and told him that if he even thought about going for another hit, I'd call my father and tell him everything. My finger stayed paused over the call button and your father glared before storming off. I hugged your mom, my mom, and told her that it was going to be okay, told her you needed her. I left after that, after I was sure your father wouldn't return. When I got to my house I told my father we fought, he never questioned it.

Only a week after that they got divorced, your father made it clear it was my fault and I never questioned it, he swore he'd come back for me and I never believed it. I always believed it. Every day I believed it, everyday I feared it, even now. It's awkward when we're sitting, eating. You're mother's at work, I made us dinner because we were doing stupid research for your stupid pack and you didn't trust your dad, I don't either. But you leave me, you leave me here all alone…with him. I'm scared, I'm angry, I don't know what to do. It feels like I can't breath and he smiles up at me.

"Heard you told your father what a disgusting freak you are." I flinch at the words, they burn. Ever since that day all I thought was how dirty I was, all the slurs your father had spoke had burned into me. Almost branded into my mind, I never believed otherwise and I was scared I never would.

"I'm not." I bit back, digging my fork roughly into the seasoned chicken. "You are." Part of me didn't believe that though, even if that's what my dad has said. I'm not sure if he knows how I feel, but I know how I feel. I feel dirty, used, like no one would ever want me anymore. And it's been a few years since then, almost four, just under four. You think I'd be better, you think I'd be okay. But I'm not, no one would want me, isn't that obvious by now.

"Sure you aren't. So what made you tell now, _Stiles_? Did you go cry to daddy for attention?" I stab the food again, where are you? You said you'd be right back. Why are you doing this to me. "As I recall it was your fault anyway, was that it? Were you afraid I was going to tell my son you're the reason his parents aren't together anymore?"

"Shut up." I tell him and it sucks. Usually I'm good at these kinds of things, usually I can spit out something. I've faced Derek and Matt and Gerard but your father. Fuck, it's like he has this power, like he can stop me from speaking properly. It hurts. It makes me want to cry, makes me want to run. I can feel my skin crawling just by his smirk and raised brow.

"You haven't been around often, that Issac kid taking your place?" I swallow and look towards my food, pushing it around. Was Issac taking my place? He was a werewolf, I wasn't. He was pack, could I even be pack? I can't really do much, that's obvious enough. "He's not bad looking, I'm glad my sons getting better taste in friends." The edges of the handle of the fork dig into my palm as I clench it. He has no right to insult me or maybe he has every right. But after what he's done he's not allowed to squish my tiny self-esteem.

"You can't say that." I tell him, glaring at him and he almost laughs at me. "You have no right being here." This time he does laugh at me and I clench my jaw anger filling me. "After what you've done, you have no right thinking you're allowed to be a part of their life. You have no right, absolutely no right to put Mama McCall or Scott through this."

"Oh? I don't? But you do? You know you're the reason we're divorced, just like you know you're the reason your mothers dead." I stand up, my chair collides with the ground but I can't be bothered to care. Nothing matters right now. How dare he say that? Yeah, maybe I did kill my mother, and maybe I did lead to their divorce. But he has no right to say that, he has no right to say that. I point my knife at him.

"Take it back." I tell him, waving it shakily as tears gather in my eyes. "Take it back, right now," They're burning in the back of my throat, blinding my view of him but he just leans back in his chair. "You have no right, you have no right. After everything you've done to me, you can't speak to me like that." I slam my hands down on the table. "You have no right, if you kept your damn hands out of a nine year olds pants you'd have still loved her."

"See, right there, you're just telling me that it's your fault."

"My fault? My fault?" I can stop the tears but I rub at my cheeks, smearing the water on them, trying to glare but failing. "I didn't ask you to fuck me. I didn't ask you to take everything from me. I didn't want that. I never wanted that. No one would." I jump when I hear a growl and turn to look over. You're standing at the door, red eyes glaring, chest heaving. "Scott?" I feel like I'm dying, drowning maybe, like I can't breath. Like everyone in the world is sitting on my chest.

Oh God, you hate me. You hate me, it's all my fault. The words won't come out, the apologies don't pass my lips, they choke off and fall. They sound like gasps for breath and I feel myself shaking. My knees hit the floor before I'm even aware I'm falling. The sobs are loud and ripping through my chest. I can't hear anything it's like a blurred noise. I can't focus on anything. I press my nails into the palms of my hands, trying to calm myself, I dig them into knees I pull to my chest. I have to bring myself back, I can't…

I can't…it's not…I didn't…I never meant to hurt you. Oh God, you're gonna kill me, you're gonna hate me, you're gonna tell your mom. You must…the things you think…I think them too…please, Scott, please. Oh God. Oh God. Please, Please. Stop. Too fast, too much. It hurts….it hurts. I didn't ask for this. I didn't….I can't…Scott?

"Stiles?" You're tugging at my hands, holding them in yours. You're hand is pushing my face up and all I can do it cry, all I can do is sob. I shake my head.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry." I feel so exposed but you can only see my face. I want to curl myself in a ball but you won't let me. Why won't you let me? Please, let me. I can't face you, I can't…You're hugging me. You're holding me, rocking me back and forth in your arms, you're lying to me.

"It's okay. You didn't do anything wrong. Stiles, breathe. I'm not mad at you. I'd never be mad at you. He won't look at you again. Stiles, breathe, Stiles, you'll be okay." I can't believe those words, I've always been so far from okay, always been so far from okay.

I'm waking up, curled to your chest. The room is black, the stars are still out. I don't remember when we came to your room. In fact, I'm still hoping everything was still a dream. I shift and your grip tightens, pulling me closer. I sniff and you jerk, meeting my eyes.

"Stiles." You sigh and nuzzle my neck and jaw. I can't help the tears that fall and you just brush them away, pulling me to hide in your chest. There's a part of me that loves the comfort and place to hide but the other part of me want to hide in myself, is begging you to stop teasing me.

"I'm so sorry."

"Sh." You hush, one hand running through my hair and it's now that I can hear the tears in your own voice. I feel like I don't have the right to cry. What I did was wrong. I hurt you but I never meant to. So I hold back my tears, it hurts and it burns but I don't deserve to cry. "I'm sorry, Stiles, I really am." What? I push at your chest and look at you when you let me. You have tears pouring from your own brown eyes, arms still enveloping me. "I should've known, the way your heart…Stiles, you don't ever have to deal with him again."

"Scott, why are you apologizing?"

"He hurt you, I…he didn't have that right." You duck your head onto my shoulder, your crying harder. I can feel the tears and now I can't stop mine.

"I'm the reason you're par-"

"Don't." You beg. "Please don't…none of that is your fault. You-you were nine Stiles…how…how long?" You're chocking on your words and I can understand, if it had been my dad. I'd have fallen apart too.

"Until…after…5 years." I tell you and you pull my closer, doing the math in your head before you growl lightly.

"If he even thinks about you…" The threat goes unsaid, but you'll tell me later, you'll tell me all about everything you said during my panic attack and maybe I'll smile later. You pull me away and force me to look in your eyes. "Don't you ever believe a word out of his mouth you hear me. You're not the reason you're mother died, you aren't the reason they got divorced, you're not a freak, you're…you're my brother Stiles. You're important and he…he had no right." I nod but part of me doesn't believe that none of me believes that.

You tell me all about the fight you had with your father while I panicked. You have questions, I can see them in your eyes but you make a point by not asking me. You reassure me how great I am and I just can't believe it. You don't let me go and we spend the next two days in your bed just laying there, ignoring the world. Your mom doesn't get it and I make you promise not to tell her, make you swear not to tell her. We make promises never to tell her, never to tell anyone. My father knows, you figured out the reason for the fight. My father understands and tells Melissa to let us just stay together.

Your father doesn't show up again after that, he isn't even involved in any of the conversations after that. I'm sure your mother wonders where he went but you tell her he had work to do. You tell her that he left just like before and thank god cause we're all better off without him and I can't help but agree with you.

I also can't help but believe this won't last forever. That one day this will be used against me. That every time I get close to some, that I hope to fall in love I'll just break down. I'll freak out and I won't be able to do anything. Because who wants a dirty, used up, whore that ruins people's relationship. I can't help but believe that what your father said was and always will be true. I killed my mom, ruining my parents relationship and I got fucked by your dad, ruining you're parents relationship. I got you bit in the woods, leading to a ruined relationship between Lydia and Jackson. Who's next?

Wasn't planning on doing more but may do another chapter from Scott's POV of listening in and talking to his father, to actually show his emotion I wanted to stick with the stiles POV, it got carried away.


	3. Broken on the Bed & Left to Lie Alone

AN: Because I'm easily persuade and a people pleaser, here's another chapter.

Summary: Scott's POV. He can't believe it but when he hears it chocked from his friend his sight goes red.

Warning: Mentions Past Sexual Abuse/Rape

Something is wrong, that much is obvious. I can see it in your eyes and hear it in your heart beat every time you come over. We don't talk about it, though my eyes have asked more than once. I can't figure it out. I need to know why you're upset but I'm not quite sure how to ask. You're always so…you. Happy, Sarcastic, funny, my brother. But ever since the Darach, since we were in the ice for 16 hours you've been different. I know Deaton said we'd be different but you're not different the same way Allison and I are. Well, you are, you're different that way too. But it's like, like there is something more.

I see it on your lips the day I ask about the fight between our dad's, it'd been all over town. The way you open your lips before licking them and telling me you aren't sure. You're lying, there's a skip in your too loud heart. For a second, I panic, but I don't ask. I don't know why I don't ask. Maybe it's the desperation in your eyes begging me not to or maybe it's the strain in your voice when you tell me it was nothing. So I let it go, I let it go and we walk together to your jeep.

You don't stay over, don't sneak in through my window. I don't understand why. I don't like my father either but while he's here I'll pretend I do to an extent. I'll shut the door in his face and tell him off but I'll tolerate him. But you. You're out of the house by 10 or 11, depending on what we're working on. You won't look at him. I never knew how much you didn't like him but if I remember back to the night my dad hit my mom…I wonder if he hit you too. We've never talked about it, I've never asked about what happened when you left me alone in my room and stopped my father. Maybe he hit you too, for interfering, you never did come back to me that night.

I want to ask you one night, while we're sitting in my room but when I turned to you, you're unconscious. I can't help but smile because that's the first time since we defeated the Darach that I've seen you sleep in my house. You're sprawled in what seems to be an uncomfortable position on my bed, still sitting up with the highlighter in one hand, the cap on top of the pile of papers. You're head is on my headboard, tilted to the side, lips parted. One foots extended off the bed and your arms are hanging limply by your side. I don't want to disturb you, don't want to wake you. I always think you deserve to be peaceful and while you're asleep you look like you're in a world of bliss.

After everything I've put you through with this stupid werewolf crap I always thought you deserved an out and if sleep gives you an out I'll let you sleep. I'd rather you sleep now than later. Issac comes in and is silent but you jerk, stumbling off the bed causing the beta to chuckle at you. I can't help but notice the wide eyes, the darting pupils, as if you're searching for a danger that I'll assume is only in your dreams but then you cuss and rub at your mouth. I wonder if you aren't sleeping soundly, if you're always on edge and have nightmares. I brush it aside as another question I'll have to ask you. You're picking up the papers and toss the cap at Issac who growls but you just roll your eyes.

It isn't until a week later that I watch everything fall apart. You stay over for a little more research about the creature that attacked Issac and Lydia. Issac's with Allison doing their own research with her father. Mom's at work, she got called in for the night shift and you're in the kitchen. I always knew you were a good cook, you used to cook all the time before all this stupid crap. You'd cook for your dad and me, I'd bring some extra leftovers for my mom, and it always tasted amazing. You're making some kind of seasoned chicken and I'm watching intently. You keep rolling your eyes and smiling but sneaking me pieces.

"Hey, boys, how was your day?" You're heart stammers in your chest and I glare, continuing on with the silent treatment. He sighs but doesn't say anything. "Looks good Stiles."

"Thanks." You murmur, handing me another piece and staring at me until I confirm it's good. You finish up and look over to my father. When we sit to eat, it's quiet and awkward. Your heart beat is just a tad too fast. I can hear my phone ring from here so I stand and excuse myself.

"I'll be right back." You nod when I look at you pointedly, but I don't think you get my message. I'm sure you don't realize when I say right back I'll be a minute. I run up the stairs and open the phone when I see Issac's name. "Is everything okay?" I question, making sure none of my pack is hurt.

"Yeah, Allison's father said it might take a little longer but he has it narr-" I block him out when I hear my father's voice speaking to you.

"Heard you told your father what a disgusting freak you are." I glance towards the door in confusion and anger. How dare he say that? Why would he say that?

"I'm not. You are." You bite back and I tell Issac I'll call him back. Were you two about to fight? Why were you about to fight? What was I missing? I'm cautious and hesitant in my steps towards the steps, I need to know but I don't want to stop it. Not yet. I want to protect you but I feel like I'm missing the biggest piece, I can't protect you without it.

"Sure you aren't. So what made you tell now, _Stiles_? Did you go cry to daddy for attention? As I recall it was your fault anyway, was that it? Were you afraid I was going to tell my son you're the reason his parents aren't together anymore?" What? Why was he blaming you? He had no right to blame you…right? There was no reason you were involved in that. What would you have even done to cause that?

"Shut up." That's not witty, that's not denial. That's strained at best. I'm slow down the stairs. There's a panic in me I've never felt before. Even just the thought that my father would blame you and all you could say was a pained shut up…it makes me realize that big piece is bigger than I thought. If it made your father yell at mine, if it made your heart beat like when your father was taken, if it made you so…scared. There's a growl in my throat I force back down and listen.

"You haven't been around often, that Issac kid taking your place?" How dare he? I hear you swallow and I can't help but think you might believe that. Issac's my beta, you're my brother, he's a friend you're my best friend. I know I'll have to reassure you later, secretly. Although I'm sure you know I could hear this conversation. "He's not bad looking, I'm glad my sons getting better taste in friends." I glare at the door but your heart pounds a little louder for a moment.

"You can't say that." You respond and I press myself to the wall. "You have no right being here." And while I agree I've never heard such anger in your voice. There's something I'm missing that's hurting you, and this is what it is. It has to do with my father. My father and you, and possibly everyone I knew, you were all keeping something from me that I needed to know. Were there any signs I might've missed? He laughs at you and I hold back a growl as I swallow. "After what you've done, you have no right thinking you're allowed to be a part of their life. You have no right, absolutely no right to put Mama McCall or Scott through this." Are you really just protecting me and my mom? All over again.

"Oh? I don't? But you do? You know you're the reason we're divorced, just like you know you're the reason your mothers dead." Your chair hits the ground roughly and I wonder if you threw it or knocked it over. Part of me wants to run in and part of me wants to run away but I need to know. I'm desperate to know. It hurts, that he's blaming you for all this. For my parents divorce, for your mothers death. All I can do is hope you don't believe it and reassure you later that none of that is your fault. You didn't do anything wrong.

"Take it back. Take it back, right now." You're voice is watery and I sag against the wall. I should've just stopped this. I should run in there right now and shut you up but you continue speaking so I continue listening "You have no right, you have no right. After everything you've done to me, you can't speak to me like that." You slam your hand on the table and there's the sound of a clang, like silverware hitting the table. I perk up a little, what did he do to you? What did he do? "You have no right, if you kept your damn hands out of a nine year olds pants you'd have still loved her." No. wait, he wouldn't. You aren't suggesting.

"See, right there, you're just telling me that it's your fault." Is he…?Wait…No, no because if you two mean what I think you mean…I feel like a part of me wants to stop breathing, while my wolf wants to pounce. My wolf wants to take down the man I call my father and tell him he's had no right.

"My fault? My fault?" You're sobbing and I'm gaping, waiting for you to say it was something else. Or maybe waiting for you to confirm it, I don't know. "I didn't ask you to fuck me." I feel sick to my stomach. "I didn't ask you to take everything from me. I didn't want that. I never wanted that. No one would." How DARE HE? I can't help the shift and I growl, looking at the two of you. You're eyes meet mine and you're crying. "Scott?" You sob and your lips part as you fall and I look to my father. His horrified eyes meet mine.

"How dare you?" I growl to him, stalking forward. There's a part of me that knows I need to go get you, to calm you down. But you won't be calm, you won't be okay until he's gone. There's a part of me that wants to rip out his throat. All of me.

"S-Scott?" I'm glad he's scared, I growl again. "I didn't…"

"You're going to leave." He stares. "You're going to go as far away as possible, you're not even going to think of him again. Do you understand me? If I find out you even thought it was a smart idea to look at him I'll make you pay for every jump in his heart, every gasp in his breath and any tears that he cries. You don't touch him, you don't look at him and you never think of him."

"Scott." I can't control myself as I pin him to the wall, growling and glaring. His eyes go wide. How dare he threaten you here? How Dare he hurt you? How dare he try to tell me what I heard, I heard wrong? You're panic is a distant sound as I try and control myself.

"How dare you threaten my brother in my house? How dare you blame him for anything? You're disgusting. I don't want to see you, I don't wanna hear you and I don't wanna smell you." I pull away and stab my claws into the table. "Go. Get out. Now. If I hear you're coming back to town ever again I'll personally destroy you." He looks at me for a minute, eyes searching mine. "And if you tell anyone what I am, I'll tell everyone what you are." He swallows again and I can't help but enjoy the pain on his face. You and I were family, he was nothing. "GET OUT!" He scrambles to get out and then I hear you. You're breaths are sobs.

I've never seen you have a panic attack before. Never even knew you had them until you gave me an inhaler and told me when I was having one in the showers. I pull back my wolf and sink down to my knees in front of you. I want you to calm down, want you to come back from me. But you're hiding from me and I think there's a part of you that's still trying to form words, that come out as gasps and sobs. I don't know what to do. I run fingers through the little hair available to me, rub my hand on your knee. I tell you to breath with me. You don't seem to be focusing on me though. I have to get you to focus.

"Stiles?" I pull your hands from your face, hold them in mine. I push your face up. "Stiles? Stiles breath with me. In. Out. Stiles, it's okay, he won't hurt you. It's okay. Stiles?" I have to pull your hands again and force your face up. You notice me then. You shake you're head.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry." And you go on and on but I can't understand. Why are you apologizing? You shouldn't be apologizing. There's nothing to apologize about. You didn't do anything wrong. He did. And if either of us should be apologizing it was me for leaving you with him, for letting you deal with this all over again. I hold you, hug you and rock you but you seem like you want to get away. You're still sobbing in my arms.

"It's okay. You didn't do anything wrong. Stiles, breathe. I'm not mad at you. I'd never be mad at you. He won't look at you again. Stiles, breathe, Stiles, you'll be okay." I try comforting you, but there's a part of me that thinks you'll never be okay. That wonders how long my father…How long that could've lasted. And I'm sick again. I nuzzle your hair, seeking your comfort. Your fingers dig into my shirt, gripping me tight and close. I smile lightly. "You didn't do anything wrong." You pass out so I carry you to my room, I never want to let you go. I don't want anything to hurt you that much again. I can't believe my own blood did this, I feel sick.

We talk for a while, about everything. You seem a little better, you crack a smile when I told you I pinned my dad to a wall, but it's barely there. It's more like a quirk of your lips but it was something. I think you hearing how much you meant to me actually did something because your heart skipped and your eyes searched my face. I'm not lying, you're my brother, you said it yourself. You mean more to me than anyone else. I don't ask but there's so many questions on my mind. Why didn't you tell me? Why didn't you tell anyone? Does my mom know? Did he hurt you again? How could you show up and be my friend knowing I'm related to that monster? Do you know how much you mean to us? Do you believe what he said?

"Just…" It's been two days and Issac questions with his eyes but I shoo him away. I tell him at night it wasn't anything he needs to worry about. "Don't…don't tell your mom." You beg me and I nod. Guess she doesn't know. "Promise me Scott, promise me you won't tell you're mom, you won't tell anyone."

"I promise." I tell you and you nod, leaning closer to me. It kind of feels like a comfort, my wolf is even satisfied to have you taking comfort in me. We know you're feeling a bit better, but you're not. I've known you for a while and I know you're not feeling all that better, you're just good at pretending.

"No one can ever know." You whisper and I nod but frown. Is this what you've lived with this entire time? Thinking you couldn't tell anyone, that people would hate you, that you deserved it. It hurts me, it physically hurts me to think you think that.

My mom calls John only moments later and he come sover, curious as to if you're okay. He's sees us curled in bed and we both look to him for a moment. He smiles lightly and when you look away he mouths thank you to me. So he does know, he only proves what I already knew. They were fighting because you told your dad. And I wonder, as well, why now? What made you tell now? But I won't ask, not yet. Not while it's just such an open wound.

"Don't worry about it Melissa." He tells her, I smile lightly, even though she's confused she doesn't know what she married. I wonder if that's why you won't tell her. I don't want to see her face or smell her pain or hear her hear if she were to find out that the man she married, the man she vouched for to let you stay with for two weeks was a vile, disgusting monster worse than me. "Let 'em stay together for a while alright? They need it right now."

Yeah, right now. Because you'll be okay. You'll fight through this. You always do. I admire that about you. No matter how bad something hurts you get over it, I don't know how and I hope it's healthy but you do it. You're sarcasm comes back, you're laughter comes back and you're you again. This won't break you because you're stronger and that scares me but makes me smile. You're my brother and while you're fighting, I'll fight beside you.

AN: URGH! It was so much easier in Stiles pov. I am so sorry.


	4. Things You Talk Around

AN: Alright, last chapter. Which was by far the hardest to write because the writer in me made me go and do some research which ended in a mess. I am very hesitant to write this.

Summary: John Stilinski's POV. This wasn't just a kid that's been hurt by a parent. This is son who was hurt by a man he trusted his son to be near. And he's not sure how to help Stiles.

Warning: Mentions Past Sexual Abuse/Rape.

There's blood on his forehead but I know he's okay. He's alive and right now that's all that matter, his head injury will be looked at once we're out of here. I'll apologize to him for not believing him because I should've believed him. I should've trusted that my son was telling the truth when he said Scott was a werewolf as was Derek and all those kids. But I didn't. Melissa patches him up and his jeep needs to be repaired but that doesn't matter because he's alive. And as long as he's alive I'm okay with that.

"Dad? Can we…talk real quick?" I smile and nod, sitting down across from him at the table. He looks a little torn. I'm not sure why. Maybe he's trying to think of a way to start the conversation. I'm waiting for it. "I'm bi." He says and while it's not what I expected and not the best opener I nod. "I love Lydia, don't get me wrong, but guys are attractive and I like them too."

"Okay." I say, I know there's more, I can see it on his face. He swallows heavily and nods again.

"I don't know if I want to be a werewolf. I told Peter I didn't but he told me I was lying and especially now I'm not sure if he was wrong anymore. I don't want to be a killing machine like he was but Scott, Issac, Derek, they're all human right? So if I could be like that than maybe but I don't know. I mean I could protect-"

"Stiles," I shake my head. "You already do that. You saved us all the other night, remember? If you didn't show up we'd be dead." He relaxes visibly and nods, but there's more. I know that too. I'm not sure how much is going to be revealed tonight but I don't mind much.

"Uhm…in uh…" He inhales heavily and licks his lips. I've never really seen him at a loss for words and that scares me. "In 8th grade I…" He brushes his fingers over his arm lightly. "This is a lot harder than I thought." He huffs out and swallows again. "For that year I had…I started cutting." What? I'm not sure what my face reads aside from horrified and confused. But my heart is pounding and I can't believe that. I'm the damn Sheriff how in the Hell did I miss my own son suffering? "I stopped. I just…at the time everything had been too much and on top of the panic attacks and thinking about high school, and everything I could. Oh God, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry." I shake my head but I can't say much else. I still can't believe it. His face is full of pain and he's staring at me. "I didn't mean to hurt you." I didn't even realize I was crying until he says that. I shake my head and brush the tears away. I grab him and hug him.

"Don't be…don't be. Are you okay now?" He nods and sits back down, so there's more. How much more has he kept from me? Why doesn't he think he can talk to me? He has to know he can talk to me. "I love you no matter what." He shakes his head and there are tears in his eyes.

"You won't." He chokes out and I'm shocked. How can my own son believe I won't love him? "Not-Not after you know everything."

"What else is there?" I questions and he stares at me for a moment.

"I killed mom." He sobs out and I gape. He buries his head in his hands and shakes. There are mutters of the words 'hate me', 'murderer', 'disgusting' and 'locked up'. There's a small mantra of 'I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.'. How could he think THAT? He should know it's not his fault. I pull him up and hug him. I know I'm horrified. He panics for a while and all I can do is tell him how it's not his fault. All I can do is try and make him believe that her passing wasn't, isn't and never could've been his fault. I'm not sure if he believes me.

We sit there for a while, he tells me why he thinks that and I tell him why he's wrong. And nothing out of his lips actually makes sense most of the conversation. I can't help but feel even worse about not being there when she died. Maybe if I had gone he wouldn't think this now, I wouldn't have walked in on my son shaking his head in his hands and a nurse apologizing for my loss. After he calms down, we sit on the couch in a comfortable silence. I decide after a few moments that I'm going to go to bed. I hear Stiles behind me when I'm on the first step I hear the sob and my blood runs cold.

"I'm not a virgin." I pause in my steps and turn to face him, there are silent tears rolling down his face. His lips are pushed together tightly and he looks like he's about to explode. I swallow and stare at him. That face is one I've seen before. My heart pounds in my chest and it takes me a second to find my voice.

"Why are you telling me that?" I ask, my eyes never leaving his face.

"I don't wanna die without you knowing." I can see the panic attack before it hits Stiles. The tears fall harder and ever struggled gasp is filled with sobs. I'm right beside him on the floor, holding him and easing him out of it the same way I had to the first few times. I don't like this. I don't know who would. I want to panic, I want to cry. I want to shot whoever hurt my son but I feel like that's not enough. He breathes calmly for a while before he looks at me and just blinks. I stare back and he inhales shakily. "When I got taken away from you while you were drinking….Mr. McCall." He chokes on the name and my heart stops in my chest. Mr. McCall, my friend McCall? He looks sick just saying the name but I ask anyway.

"Scott's dad?" He nods. "Was that the only time?" He shakes his head and I let out a pained breath. "Oh, Stiles." I pull him in another hug

The words come out, stuttered and sobbed. The entire incident from when he was nine to the night I lost faith in the man. Details limited. Apologies strong. I reassure him it wasn't his fault and that he doesn't ever need to even think about being sorry. All I can think is my son, my nine year old son kept a secret like this from everyone. He endured this for years on end and kept it to himself. Even though I, his father, was a cop, was supposed to know these things happened. I couldn't even realize it was happening to my own son. My own son who went through this alone. And then the worst thought crosses my mind, a line I've heard one too many times….did he think he deserved it?

I don't know how to make him feel better, I don't know how to ease his mind and his fears. I can't force him to believe what I think, what I know. He might never believe it all I can do is try. Try and make him believe it because he didn't deserve that, it's not his fault, I still love him. He falls asleep crying which hurts me just a tad bit more. He cried himself to sleep, that wasn't something I wanted to see my son do. My son. This wasn't someone else's kid where I feel bad about it, this is my own son where I feel sick and worse than ever before.

When Stiles comes downstairs it's already past the time he should've entered school. He's confused and panicked but I tell him he's not going today that we had to talk. He bites his lip but grabs a cup of coffee and sits down for some breakfast. I let him eat before we talk and he's smiling but it's small and barely there. He shrugs when I ask him why he didn't think he could tell me sooner but I know he knows. I let it go. I bring up therapists and how he needs to talk about it to get over and obviously there's deeper rooted problems than just this. It takes him a while but he agrees, I know it won't last long. He's got that look in his eyes and he won't talk about it. I've seen the looks before and they sting my heart each one. Makes me feel like I've failed as a father.

I wonder who else he would tell but he wouldn't tell anyone. He's good at keeping stuff to himself and it hurts. It hurts that he won't talk to me about it but I think I'd feel better if he'd talk to someone about it. I call in for an appointment a few days from now that Stiles will go to. I know there's only so much I can say and do to help, I know there's only so much you feel comfortable telling a parent.

When I go to the station the next day I see him and my blood boils. That's the man that hurt my son. That's the man I trusted. Everyone trusted my son with that monster and he ripped everything from my son. I want to shoot him, I want to punch him repeatedly, I want him to feel the same amount of pain I heard in your voice, I saw in your eyes, I felt in you. I hate him. I growl at him that we need to talk and we head to the parking lot.

"You come near my son and I'll kill you." My mind can't even form a better threat right now, no details on how I'd do it. I don't know how I'd do it. It'd be painful I know that. He raises his brow and looks confused.

"John, what are you talk-"

"Don't. You might have everyone else fooled including Stiles. That you're trustworthy of a decent guy but what you've done to him…I'd have you arrested." He scowls at him and glares.

"I don't know what you're lying piece of shit son said but if you go around damaging-"

"Don't insult him!" I scream, eyes narrowed. The edge of my sight is going red and I'm not sure how much longer I'd be able to push down my anger. How dare he insult my son? When he's the lying piece of shit!

"John, you've known me for years! You think you're son's some innocent boy who's done nothing wrong? Well he's not and for the record, everyone in this town thinks he's a royal fuck up!" I don't know when the screaming escalates, but there are people watching, waiting for fist to fly and fly they do. The screams turn into fists and my deputies are pulling us apart, screaming at us each to get a grip. I couldn't look at him any longer, I hated him. So I turned away, told him to stay away and went home.

By the time Stiles gets home the next day he has pursed lips and raised eyebrows. He questions me and I told him Mr. McCall is a scumbag who doesn't deserve to walk on this planet, let alone breath the same air as humans. His lips twitch at the corners as he tries to act mad. Rumors spread fast in this town. He shakes his head and makes dinner, muttering about 'overprotective fathers' but I hear the 'thank you' laced in there. I wish I could do more but I can't not yet.

I don't like the fact that he's still going to Scott's. He avoids it at all cost but it's easier to go there. Since Scott and Issac already live there. Although I've heard Issac's been seeing the Argent's girl – Allison, he corrects me. I don't think McCall spends his time at the house with Scott and Melissa, I can't see her or them being very happy to see him. Not after he hit her. The night was still a clear memory.

Stiles had come home late, looking upset and flustered but a little relieved. When I asked why he was home early he told me that him and Scott had fought. I nodded knowing the two did have fights every once in a while. When I asked why he didn't call he said that he needed time to think and wanted to be alone. I accepted that. Melissa had called the next morning, her voice was still teary, evident of the night she spent reassuring her son it wasn't his fault. She told me that her husband had hit her and they were getting a divorce, she asked me to be there. She told me that Stiles had stepped in and stopped the man and McCall left. I didn't confront Stiles on it, I knew how he worked, he felt it wasn't his place to tell, I knew that. I did tell him about the divorce and he looked away, nodded and said 'good.'.

Now, to understand it's so much deeper than trying to protect his friend and his friends mom. To realize that he was hurt by the man and was genuinely glad the guy was being forced to leave. To be told that he was trying to protect us all from seeing what McCall had don to him. It hurt that I couldn't realize that night and get McCall for something, for anything. It scared me that Stiles would be having to deal with this every time he looked at the man, to have to deal with his thoughts alone.

Stiles doesn't talk to his therapist about McCall or Scott, he talks about curly fries and Star Wars. We book another appointment but I have a feeling we're just going to deal with the same things. I want to sit down and make sure he's okay with this but at the same time I just want him to open up. I want him to know and understand that what he believes isn't true.

Melissa calls me up two days after Scott calls and tells me he need Stiles to stay over. I know Scott knows something is wrong but he doesn't know what. It's obvious it's killing him but the tone in his voice tells me it's something more. He reassures me he needs Stiles to stay over for a little while, just for a little. Tells me it's nothing unsafe, that Stiles is safe. There's a slight growl in his voice when he says that and I realize he's slipping control at the thought of Stiles being unsafe. I wonder if Stiles would tell Scott, he didn't seem to want to. He seemed almost afraid to and I wish he didn't. It tears me apart to know he thinks his friend will hate him for something he had no control over.

"Hello?"

"John, is everything okay?"

"Yeah." I say and furrow my brows at her voice. "Why? Has something happened?"

"Well, I don't know. I'm a little concerned, maybe you should come over." I panic slightly, has something happened to my son. Were Stiles and Scott keeping another secret from me? If that man even looked at Stiles wrong…I don't know what I'd do. I really just don't there are so many things in my head I want to do to him but I don't know what I'd actually do. Without a thought I rush over and she leads me to the room. "They've been like that for two days."

Stiles is tucked in Scott, almost hiding. Scott has his arms wrapped about Stiles, keeping him close. Stiles has one hand pressed against his face and the other clenched in Scott's shirt. I think they hear me because Scott peeks over and Stiles pushes himself up, they both stare at me for a moment. Stiles ducks back first but I know from that split look that Scott knew. That Scott was protecting him, comforting him in a way I think Stiles needs more than anyone else. 'Thank you' I mouth and Scott nods before burying his head in Stiles' hair. Because if I can't comfort him I'm glad someone is and I think hearing Scott tell him he doesn't blame him and that Scott still loves him like a brother is something Stiles needs.

"Don't worry about it Melissa." I tell her, guiding her away from the room. I want to tell her everything but at the same time I know I wouldn't be able to. That would be betraying Stiles' trust and hurting him, even if it would ultimately help him. I couldn't do that to him, not right now. Not yet. "Let 'em stay together for a while alright? They need it right now." I can tell she wants to ask, it's on her face but she doesn't. She just nods and lets them stay together.

I can't help but worry how broken my son really is. I don't know why all of this had to happen to him and I don't see it as fair. McCall seems to disappear, they say he had to leave for a job. Part of me doesn't believe that and there's a smaller part that worries Scott's done something to hurt his father. Not that I'd say anything, not that I could actually believe that. But if Scott had…was it really such a bad thing? When I want to do the same? Wouldn't it be bad to tell Scott he can't hurt McCall but then turn around and sock the older man in the jaw?

When Stiles comes home a few days later he looks better, he smiles and Scott's following him. The entire pack shows up later that night and the two friends, my sons, the two brothers crack a smirk and say… "It's pack night, you can't break up pack night.". I'm a little weary of a house full of teenagers but I allow it with a sigh.

"Alright, next pack night is at Scott's place though." I say and the nod. "Have fun. I'm proud of you." There's a silence that fills the room as Scott beams at Stiles who stares at me before smiling lightly. I give a nod before I head out for work. I just left a house full of teenage werewolves, a banshee, and a female hunter. I trust my son to keep them in order and I trust them to protect Stiles so it works. And no matter what my parting words were true. I was proud of Stiles, for the man he is.

There's a place in the back of my head wondering when it was all going to end. When the misery would come sinking back in. I don't want Stiles to feel anymore pain. I just want to keep him from the darkness of the world but Stiles has made it very clear he's stuck in the supernatural world because he's not leaving Scott and I'd never expect him to. It was admirable how strong, brave and loyal Stiles has become. He's certainly gotten that from his mother.

AN: Completely went off on it's own and was still the hardest chapter I've ever had to write. I had to factor in a lot of things that weren't in my research and it's not great. Last chapter. However, I'm thinking of a possible sequel to this, maybe showing Stiles actually healing instead of just coping and telling people. I'm not positive so let me know if you'd be interested.

All mistakes in this story are my own.


	5. Final Thoughts

AN: Hi, guys. Wow, thank you so much for the follows/favorites/reviews. It was amazing. Anyway, I just wanted to update you all real quick on what's going on with the sequel.

SEQUEL IS UP! 'What's Fixed Is Easily Broken'. Title may be changed.

Now, I know I'm not supposed to just update Author's notes, so here's a small conclusion to what's running through Stiles' mind at the end of the last chapter, right before we go into the beginning of the sequel.

Stiles POV:

They tell you that it'll get better. That talking about it helps. That once you start talking about it, you'll heal. They tell you that all of this fades away. But honestly, saying it out loud, having the people who you love know about it, well that just makes it more real. Something you could've pretended wasn't real is suddenly real and there's no avoiding it. Because no matter where you turn, no matter what you say it's always written in their eyes. What you believe about yourself is magnified and you can't tell them to lie to you. You can't ask them to deny what they feel about you, what you know is true. Even if they never say it, even when they never voice their opinion because they think you'll break. I just wish I could take it all back.

I want to go back, back to the time before they thought what I knew was true. Before they knew I was disgusting, used, pathetic, filthy, broken. I want to go back before then. Because before then I could deny what I thought, I could even deny what happened, claim to myself that they were unrealistic nightmares and not the truth. And even when I didn't believe that, no on else had any opinions on it. No one else's eyes told me it was real. Now, it's real and I feel like it's happened all over again.

I feel sick. The comforts welcomed, letting Scott hold me and tell me I'll be okay, I like that. But it'll come to an end and when it does, I want to be in my room. I want to be alone and I want to pretend none of this happened, that none of it was real. Because I don't want it to be real, because if it was then I'm forced to face that I deserved it, that I deserve worse. And that's just…that's something I can't face…not….not yet.

I don't want to talk about it. I head home and that's all I can think. I don't want to talk about it. I don't want to think about it. Why does this…why does HE have the upper hand here when he's not even here? How the hell does he have the upper hand again? Why the hell can't I pretend still? What went wrong? When did HE flip this around on me again? I just want it to stop, I want it all to end.

Sorry, it took so long but the sequel is up.


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